


this fire in my heart (will burn me to the ground)

by plaidpie



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel
Genre: Father Lantom Is a Good Guy, Hurt/Comfort, Jessica Is Fucked Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidpie/pseuds/plaidpie
Summary: Inside a church is the last place on earth anyone would think to find Jessica Jones. Therefore it's where she inevitably ends up.





	this fire in my heart (will burn me to the ground)

The problem with the general public in Jessica Jones’ mind is that they don’t know when to shut the hell up and let things be. Just as this thought enters her head, she’s assaulted with the ringing of her landline _again_. It’s enough to make her want to brain herself against the nearest wall.

“Ignoring them isn’t going to make them go away, Jess.”

“Thanks, Einstein. I couldn’t have figured that out myself,” she snaps, pillowing her head in her folded arms. It’s been exactly ten hours since the death of Kevin Thompson - most famously known as ‘Kilgrave’ - and Jessica thinks to herself that jumping off a bridge and joining him in hell would be far preferable to listening to people’s sob stories for another minute.

Malcolm gives her a gentle pat on the back and says, “I’m gonna go get some take-out from that place down the block you like. Try not to break your phone in half while I’m gone, please.”

She doesn’t answer, nor does she lift her head again until she hears the door of her apartment close and the elevator start. As soon as Jessica knows he’s gone, she grabs her shoulder bag off the back of her chair. Without hesitation she stuffs a few pairs of socks, underwear, and sort-of-maybe-not clean changes of clothes inside. A pang of guilt hits her when she thinks of Malcolm coming back to her empty apartment/office, but it’s quickly shoved aside a moment later when the phone starts ringing again. Suddenly skipping out seems like the most pressing thing in the world, Malcolm be damned.

She scribbles out a note to him. _‘Sorry about the take-out. I got places to be’_ is all it says, with a wad of money underneath to pay for the shitty Chinese food that she won’t be eating when he gets back. The guilt is still there, but Jessica has a lot of practice ignoring it. She knows Trish will come looking for her, maybe Luke too (though she’s not holding her breath on that one), but Malcolm will be here to tell them both that she’s gone. Fine, still alive, but gone. And if Malcolm and Trish (and Luke) are lucky, they’ll never have to see her again.

Jessica flags down a taxi as soon as she gets downstairs and when he asks her where to go, she shrugs. He gives her an unimpressed look which quickly turns into shock when she shoves all the money in her wallet at him. “Just drive, okay? I’ll tell you when to stop.” He doesn’t argue this time. They drive for an hour and then two, then three. Finally, the sunrise comes up over the city skyline and Jessica says, “Stop here.”

“You sure? This part of town is… well, not the best.”

Jessica rolls her eyes and slams the door of the cab in reply. She can’t say she disagrees. Hell’s Kitchen is definitely the scummiest part of this entire goddamn city. The driver’s not wrong about that. What she finds amusing is that he thinks anything at all could manage to get the drop on her, even here. If only he knew what she can do, what she _is_. Jessica wonders briefly if he’d have even let her in his cab if he’d known the truth about her.

The answer to that is too easy, so she pushes the thought away.

When her feet finally come to a stop, she’s met with the large door of a Catholic church - probably the only one within a hundred miles of here. For a while, Jessica just stares at it, the irony of this whole situation bubbling up inside her until it spills out as a harsh laugh. Of course. Of _course_ this would be where she ends up. Not sure whether to laugh or cry again, Jessica settles for her usual grimace and proceeds to push gently against the doorknob until it opens to reveal the nave of the church. The empty aisles are both comforting and eery in their silence.

“I must admit, I don’t usually see people come so early for confession.”

Jessica jerks at the sudden voice, turning to meet the eyes of who she assumes must be the priest, considering his distinct state of dress and the way he holds himself. He’s comfortable here, the look in his eyes curious but kind. Still, Jessica doesn’t relax. She’s seen seemingly kind people do horrible things in the last few weeks. No one is exempt from her scrutiny - her distrust - especially not now; not after Kilgrave.

“My name is Father Lantom,” the old man continues, deftly ignoring her tense shoulders and the way she takes two steps backwards when he takes one forwards. His eyes remind her of her father’s; gentle and assessing all at once. “You look tired, my dear,” he says, quietly. “If you need a place to rest, then I’m obliged to help. That is, if you’ll allow me.”

“Thanks but… I don’t really know why I’m here. I - I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Are you Catholic?” Father Lantom asks, skillfully ignoring the woman’s unsure discomfort.

“…No.”

“Ah, I see. Protestant, perhaps?”

“I’m nothing. No one. I don’t… I don’t even believe in god.”

Lantom nods, considering. Then, with a small smile, “Do you believe in anything at all? The goodness of strangers, perhaps?” Jessica doesn’t answer. “Because I, for one, am in the service of god - one whom I do, in fact, believe in. And my holy book commands me to help those in need; even if they’re strangers, such as yourself. So if you would be so kind as to join me for a cup of tea and conversation I would be grateful. Mornings in Hell’s Kitchen are quiet, especially when it comes to my church.”

Hesitantly, Jessica agrees and the real smile on Father Lantom’s face is enough to put her at ease for the time being. He leads her to a side door off the pulpit and ushers her into a cosy, but spartan, office. While he goes about making the tea, Jessica takes a seat across from his desk.

“You remind me of someone I know,” Lantom comments as he stirs the water in his cup. “He’s a bit off-putting, but a good person for the most part. And in this world, I suppose that’s a blessing in and of itself.”

“Depends.”

“Does it?”

Jessica shrugs. “Yeah. Some would say it’s a curse to have a conscious. To _care_.”

Father Lantom steeps his fingers after sitting down in his own chair. The long pause he takes to think this statement over makes Jessica feel equal parts uncomfortable and strangely grateful. No one’s really taken the time to listen to anything she’s said for as long as she can remember and the feeling is… different. Better.

“And what do you think?”

“I…” the words catch in Jessica’s throat and she swallows thickly. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“You’re very hard on yourself.”

“I have to be.”

To her confusion, the priest’s lips quirk up slightly at her declaration. “Is that so?”

 _Of course it is!_ Jessica wants to shout back. But the man before her has been anything but unkind. She can’t stand to get defensive; not when he seems to genuinely care. With this thought, her anger deflates and she nods slowly. “It is.”

“I believe in a great many things, my dear. Chief among them would be that goodness and altruism brings it’s own rewards. In the end, to care for your fellow man or woman is a privilege and an honor. Such a concept is not restricted to those of the religious variety.”

Jessica looks at him squarely and he meets her gaze head on, without flinching.

“Is that so?” she finally whispers.

“It is,” he replies.


End file.
